


Block Out the Sun

by sharkinterviewee



Series: MCU kink bingo [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, BAMF Gamora (Marvel), Con Artists, F/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Partners in Crime, Romance, Strangers to Partners to Lovers, Suggestive humor, Thief Peter Quill, biomechanics, cybernetics do not equal losing your humanity, don't forget to have fun, fuck the bourgeoisie, prosthetics are our friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkinterviewee/pseuds/sharkinterviewee
Summary: “You’re not a collector,” Gamora said, almost as if this was something of interest as she dragged her finger along his work table at a lackadaisical pace. Her back was still to him, head tilted at an easy angle.She was trying to gauge him, while also putting on a display, fucking sauntering around the room and touching all his stuff like she didn’t have a care in the world.Peter was used to it- negotiating tactics, getting a read on the other person, feeling them out before going into business details. There’s no way he could do what he did if he couldn’t recognize the same in someone else. That much at least was straight forward.While her actions and attitude were familiar, almost routine by now for a new working relationship like this, her comment was… unexpected.A slight frown tugged at his lips before he slipped back into the easy mask of cocky and irreverent scoundrel.“Thought you were here for a thief,” Peter reminded her with a smirk.
Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill
Series: MCU kink bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724437
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	Block Out the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Square filled: Cyberpunk AU

Gamora hummed as she took in the new surroundings. Not quite what she was expecting. She thought there’d be more. Else.

She didn’t let her surprise show, though. Kept her face blank as she entered the room, her footsteps sure and quiet against the concrete floor of what appeared to be- for all intents and purposes- the workshop of a mechanic with less than legal connections. A mechanic with a side business, who had a reputation for skirting around stringent regulations without ever getting caught.

That’s what the meeting was for yesterday, right? To check if this was one contact she wanted to make.

Gamora had done her research, but was still wary. She needed someone like him for the next job she was going to pull- but after their short but professional meeting on an abandoned roof the day before (neutral ground), she was still undecided.

Still, she set and agreed to this follow up at his workshop tonight, and here she was.

Once she got a feel for a target (whether potential business associate or a mark) she was good to go. It didn’t usually take a second meeting for her to decide.

Most in her line of work would set another neutral space for the location, but Gamora liked to do the exact opposite. If she couldn’t get a feel for them in a third party location, she liked to stop by (infiltrate) their personal territory.

Others may think that was an unnecessary risk. Perhaps it was.

But Gamora was confident in her skills. If something felt off, she never bothered to call a second meeting in the first place. She rarely needed to make these sort of house calls- she had to be good at reading people, doing what she did, so Peter Quill was a rather unique case. Someone who required a second meeting, instead of being dropped without a trace after the first.

If she had any doubt as to whether she would be able to walk out of a meeting in a shady individual’s work space, she wouldn’t consider meeting with them again. She was a professional, not an idiot.

Also, you could tell a lot about a person by the way they reacted to another criminal arranging a meet at their home base in less than 24 hours. No time to set an elaborate trap, no wiggle room- she always watched them closely as they ran through contingencies in their head in the few seconds after the suggestion. Anyone who blanched or seemed over-eager was out. Microexpressions that slipped past in their surprise often led to a no show from her.

Peter Quill’s reaction had her curious. The casual indifference as he titled his head to the side at her sudden request (demand), the shrug and “Okay” that followed was convincingly genuine.

People usually slipped up when they were comfortable, hence her choice of secondary location. In this case, it was Peter Quill’s workshop.

It was a calculated move, turning her back to him, walking further into the room while he stood, leaning against the door frame. As natural as it seemed, she was sure they both knew how deliberate it was.

“You’re not a collector,” Gamora said, almost as if this was something of interest as she dragged her finger along his work table at a lackadaisical pace. Her back was still to him, head tilted at an easy angle.

She was trying to gauge him, while also putting on a display, fucking sauntering around the room and touching all his stuff like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Peter was used to it- negotiating tactics, getting a read on the other person, feeling them out before going into business details. There’s no way he could do what he did if he couldn’t recognize the same in someone else. That much at least was straight forward.

While her actions and attitude were familiar, almost routine by now for a new working relationship like this, her comment was… unexpected.

A slight frown tugged at his lips before he slipped back into the easy mask of cocky and irreverent scoundrel.

“Thought you were here for a thief,” Peter reminded her with a smirk.

Why she had thought he was one of those rich assholes who held onto relics of the past like they were the only prestige offered, who toted around ‘artifacts’ that came in display cases that cost more units than most people made in their life was beyond him.

It was so much more satisfying stealing from the class of people who waxed poetic about the way things used to be while thinking of themselves as wholly above the rest because they bought organ and bone transplants like upper echelon fucks instead of the artificial parts made of metal and technology that the rest of the population was outfitted with.

Honestly, he was offended that Gamora assumed he was one.

The silver lines she bore on her face, etched into her skin, made it pretty clear what camp she was in.

You never really know with aliens- who could survive on this wasteland without augmentation and who couldn’t. Her green skin would’ve left everyone guessing.

But no, Gamora’s markings were a challenge. The metallic lines mapping her cheekbones, her forehead- they’d only emphasize her raised brow when she gave someone a look just daring them, a look that said _fuck yeah, I’m built on metal, and I’m better than you. Whatcha gonna do about it._

He found himself falling a little bit in love with her for that alone.

The note of surprise he detected when she took in the room, how it was lacking all the trappings of a collector (which- what was she thinking? Did she know what district they were in?)- he couldn’t help but feel a little insulted.

Peter took care of his workspace, but it was still dingy as hell, and absolutely screamed former Ravager.

Which was about as far from a collector as you could get- the exact opposite, really.

Criminals who scavenged for metal scraps and tech where they could find it, provided less than legal services, and supplied black market shops with their inventory.

Sure, he didn’t have any visible mechanics like Gamora did, but that wasn’t uncommon. (Also, it was hard to play the honey trap with his favorite crowd to rip off with the kind of statements she made).

Peter probably had more back alley, rigged together replacement parts than most. Hell, it was his _specialty._

Forgive him for not being pleased she assumed he was the type that considered themselves above people like him.

He was betting he had more metal in him than Gamora did, forgive him for not broadcasting that just so people wouldn’t lump him in with the scum of the earth that called themselves _collectors._

She turned back to face him with much more consideration than before. Much more _open_ consideration. Her hand was still on his table, but gone was the _I’m touching all your stuff like a suave motherfucker_ projection that was only aimed at provoking some sort of reaction in the first place. He knew all the tricks in the book, but he much preferred this open consideration from her to the hidden one that was behind the facade before. It was a little more like their first meeting- the seriousness that settled on her face. Not a bad serious. Just- no performance.

Gamora studied him, her brows lowering. “I’ve upset you, Star-lord.”

He ticked his jaw. Didn’t deny it. “If you know who I am, kinda don’t get why you’d think I was a collector.”

“That,” Gamora said easily, pointing to his hip.

Peter looked down, confused for a second, until he realized she was talking about his walkman.

Which, okay, fair point.

The music player was so ancient that most wouldn’t even consider it technology, and stood out as what would be considered a relic in this modern landscape.

He always kept it on him. His signature red coat usually kept it more or less hidden from view, tucked away and secure at his hip. He hadn’t realized she had spotted that.

“It was a gift,” he said. He looked back up at her with a wry smile, “Besides, don’t think collectors take their merchandise out of the box.”

Gamora nodded, conceding his point, and for the briefest moment, he _swore_ he saw her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding a second chapter to this EVENTUALLY, but for now it functions as a one shot.


End file.
